Brightened Sparks
by journal129
Summary: Set after Sidekicks-Anonymous's "Vultures." Knockout's feeling particularly daring today, and wants to join a high caste race. Unfortunately for him, caste jumping isn't easy. And doubly unfortunate, he now seems to be stuck with a less-than-sane high caste femme. One-shot, may continue if I think it's good enough.
Ever since Tunnel Sigma had blown, the higher class had _so mercifully_ given miners one day off per week. Apparently, it was already required by law, but had "accidentally" been overlooked by the mine's high-caste overseers.

Go figure.

They were still restricted, mind you, to the lower roads. Miners were never given free reign, just like all the other lower castes. If they ever tried, the police would pull them over, give them a good shock or two with taser pistol, write them up, then kick them off the higher roads. Injuries from falls like that weren't too uncommon.

There were three ways to tell if a lower caste was on the higher road.

The first was in how they drove. Lower castes tended to stay strictly in line, too stiff to be normal, for fear of being caught when pulled over for recklessness.

The second was their cleanliness. Any lower class mech would be covered in dirt, and would, even when cleaning up, miss several spots they thought nobody would pay attention to or didn't pay attention to themselves.

The third was their alt mode. And that was the most major. Higher caste had scientific equipment, elite jets, and high-caliber racecars. Lower caste had tanks, trucks, minecarts, and other bulky, slow, or impractical alt modes. And although a mech had scanning equipment built in to scan a new alternate mode, a Primus-given ability that could not be removed, doing so without special clearance from the council was highly illegal. If you were caught, you'd face charges resulting in prison time and permanent removal of your T-cog.

* * *

Paint was hard to come by in the Kalisian mining camp. It wasn't a necessity, and with the frequency of scratches, scrapes, dents, injuries, and grime, a decent paint job wouldn't even last a day.

But Knockout needed paint. Because today, on his fourth day off, he was feeling particularly daring.

Breakdown, his month-long new assistant, had already left. There were two patients in the medbay, but they were in stasis and wouldn't be getting up any time soon. Which meant this was the first "true" day off Knockout had to himself. And he was determined to use it to his advantage.

For his plan, he'd need to look good. Which meant paint, washracks, and some buffing. Rare things to have in a mining camp.

He took a moment to look at the poster in his hand. It was a racing advertisement for the higher-caste, having fallen down from the high roads. He subspaced it before transforming into his vehicle mode- a slim but durable-looking four-wheeler- and took off, only pausing a moment to check out with the guard before leaving the camp.

* * *

The low roads were dingy, full of pot-holes and lumps and covered in dirt. Fortunately, however, there were basic shops down here available for use. And paint, while seldom used, was not exclusive to the high castes. Since it was so rarely bought, it was also cheap and affordable.

Knockout strolled into the store, a small pouch of shanix in hand. Being a miner didn't pay well, and being a medic to miners wasn't much above that. But it would be enough.

"Hello, there!" The store owner, a chipper mech named Salvo, greeted him.

"Hello." Knockout replied. "I was hoping you could direct me to the paint section? The mining company has a new batch of younglings coming in, and they need at least one paintjob before going to work." He executed the lie flawlessly. The shopkeeper wouldn't be able to find out if his claim was true or not, and it was an excuse to buy excess of paint without being questioned.

Salvo nodded. "In the back, on the left. We're having a sale today. Two shanix a can!"

"Excellent. Thank you." The medic quickly made his way to the back of the store. Sure enough, large signs were up for the reduced price. He quickly grabbed two cans of every color and took them to the front. "Here we are. I'll take all of these."

The mech counted them up. "Alright...that'll be 48 shanix, please."

Knockout quickly counted up the money, payed for his purchase, and subspaced the cans of paint. Giving a wave to the cheerful shopkeeper, he walked out the door, and looked to his datapad for his next destination.

* * *

"You want new tires?"

Knockout crossed his arms. "Have you SEEN these treads of mine?" He turned around, showing the heavily-worn tires attached to his wheel struts. "Not adequate at all, and viable to pop at any moment."

"So?" Flashcast asked. "You're a miner. You don't _need_ your tires."

Knockout whirled back around, cyan blue optics narrowed. "I'm a medic. And lives depend on my ability to get to my patients fast enough. If you won't sell me a set of tires, I'll make sure to file a complaint for purposeful disregard of the system. The Council will shut down your establishment, and give it to someone who'll keep things running smoothly."

Flashcast blanched. "A set of tires, coming up." He scrambled to the back of the store to retrieve the requested objects.

* * *

"Finally."

Knockout had purchased his paint and his tires, though hadn't been able to afford anything else. So, he turned to thievery. It wasn't like anyone USED the products in the lower castes, anyways. He'd broken into a few stores and had stolen a bottle of cleanser, a microfiber cloth, a can of higher-quality lubricant, a glass cleaning solution, a block of wax, and his main prize, one he'd likely keep forever: an electric buffer. Buffers were like gold to lower caste individuals, they were so rare. It would cost a month's worth of pay just to get someone ELSE to buff you. This one had been on the upper floor of the largest store in the Kalisian ground level, priced at four _hundred_ shanix.

The buffer was beautiful. Neat silver, with a ring of pink light near the edge. He took a moment to admire his treasure before subspacing it.

Figuring out how to detail could wait. He needed a wash. Higher castes never had dirt on them.

He was currently in a run-down scrap of a housing establishment, down at the edge of Kalis. He'd snuck off to this building before for one sole reason- the washracks inside were still functional.

Knockout walked up the stairs of the housing, to the upper floor where the washracks were. Reaching out, he flipped the switch to turn on the spray of solvent, then waited to enter until the rust and dirt-ridden water changed from murky brown to a lighter, almost-transparent orange. This was the cleanest water he could get a hold of, and he prided himself in being the one to find such a precious resource.

The water was cold, but soothing as it started to get rid of the layers of dust and grime and dried energon. He closed his optics, leaning into the spray, and let himself relax.

"Jumping caste?"

Knockout's optics flew open, and he whirled around, both hands transforming into saw blades defensively.

In the doorway stood a femme, mint green armor covering her frame. She was slim, racing build from the look of it. Blue optics, whitewall tires, and meticulously clean.

High caste.

Knockout's optics narrowed. "What's it to you, femme?" He growled out, engine revving. He knew it didn't sound the best- he hadn't had an oil change in over a year- but it was enough to send a warning.

She took that as confirmation and crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter." He spat. "Go on now. Run along and attend dinner parties and make sure you feed the scraps to your fancy little turbofoxes."

If his attitude bothered her, she didn't show it. Instead, she took a look at the faucet. "That water's not clean. You won't be fooling anyone."

"I'm _not_ jumping caste!" Knockout shouted defensively, blades spinning. He _hoped_ the femme would take a hint and frag off already. He didn't need his day ruined by a nosy bitlet like her.

"Yes, you are."

"What proof do you have?!"

She smirked slightly. "You've purchased all manners of paint, and gotten yourself a new set of tires. You've stolen a microfiber cloth, a can of glass-cleaner, a can of lubricant, a bottle of cleanser, a block of wax, and a buffer. And now you're showering. From the dust and grime that looks like energon ore particles, I'm guessing you're from the mining camp. And from the lack of scars and the occasional smattering of energon dried in with the dust, paired with your sawblade upgrade-" She gave a nod towards his saws. "-you're the resident medic. Not a position you can afford to be vain in. _So!"_ She clapped her hands together once. "Wanna try again?"

She knew about his thievery. The buffer alone would land him in a stasis pod for life, not to mention the rest of his catch and his all-but-proven intent. She could turn him in, she could have him locked away. She had _all_ the leverage.

Knockout scowled, putting his saw blades away. "What if I was? Why do you care?"

"I care because I want to know if you're attempting a coup against the Council." She giggled, indicating her jest.

He rolled his optics. "Very funny. Only a madman attempts to usurp the Council."

"Only a madman attempts to jump caste without a viable reason." She prodded again.

He hesitated, then sighed, leaning against the wall. She knew of his committed crimes, and the one he was anticipating. He couldn't see any reason she would want to know besides curiosity. "There's a race on Velocity Highroad. I want to compete."

"Against Blurr?" She raised an optic ridge. "In the Benefit 500?"

"That's the one."

"Why? The shanix?"

Knockout snorted. "Well, that's definitely a bonus. Spruce up my medbay a little." He frowned. "I want to see how the higher-ups have fun. See if it's all it's cracked up to be."

The femme was silent for a long moment, contemplating. "Alright. Come with me." She turned to walk out. "And turn off that water. You can't be wasting things like that for too long without attracting attention, and I don't think you want the locals finding out about running water."

Knockout scowled, turning the water off. "Where do you think you're going, and why would _I_ go with you?"

She turned and smiled at him. "Well, you want to race, right? You're going to need professional help getting to racing capacity without being caught. I can help you. _Or,_ I can contact the authorities." Her optics glinted. "Take it or leave it."

His optics narrowed. "Well, seeing as you've effectively gotten me into a tight spot here, I really don't have a choice, do I?"

Her smile brightened in delight. "Great! Come on!" She transformed- a sleek, speedy, and expensive model- and drove down the stairs, doing so without getting a scratch.

That took skill.

Reluctantly, Knockout followed, transforming when he was on level ground and following her out of the Kalisian dregs of society.

* * *

"So, I'm Moonracer." The femme said, leading him down the road. "What's your name?"

"Knockout." He replied curtly.

Moonracer giggled. "You certainly are. Come on!" She sped ahead, going from the lower roads to the higher.

As they went steadily upward, the medic began to feel on edge. He knew that it had to be _glaringly_ obvious that he was low-caste. Even as they drove, high-caste mechs avoided him like the plague. Was this Moonracer's plan? To take him up here, then ditch him to be found by the police and be tased, written up, and kicked off, potentially to his death? A cruel joke, but he wouldn't put it past the high caste.

"Hey, you alright?"

Moonracer's voice snapped him out of his momentary paranoia and suspicion. "Perfectly fine, thank you." He replied shortly.

She didn't buy it. "You've got nothing to worry about. You're with me. Nobody's going to do anything."

"And why does it matter that I'm with _you?"_ He asked, venom dripping from his words.

"Because, monkey wrench, I'm your shield around here. Trust me, nobody's gonna touch you with me around."

His shield...funny how he, who bore the entire weight of the lives of the miners on his shoulders, had to rely on a short, thin _femme_ for protection.

Moonracer led him across the high roads to a large, expensive-looking house. It was two stories, with a four-car garage and a manner of windows with cerulean glass. If there was one thing this indicated about his "captor", it was that she was privileged.

"C'mon, Knockout!" She called, before transforming and running up to the door, coding in.

Knockout transformed and watched carefully. _8-9-2._ Those were the numbers she'd punched in to unlock it. He didn't know why he'd memorized them. Perhaps his subconscious processor had noted it, in case he needed to escape this femme. Although, his saws would make short work of the door, anyways. Warily, he walked in behind her.

The inside proved to be just as impressive as the outside. With sleek, chrome-plated walls, platinum and cobalt tiles, the entryway led to a kitchen, a living room, an office, and a staircase that led to the second floor. Moonracer went to the stairs. "This way. My washracks are up here."

The medic followed her up the stairs and to the washracks. Knockout's optics widened, and his jaw components went slack.

The washracks were large, almost as large as half of his medbay. A sink, a large mirror, a separate shower stall AND a tub, with settings for both oil and water, all made up the room. Expensive cleansers and products stood on the sill of the window, ready for use.

Moonracer walked over to the shower and turned it on. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up." She grabbed him, pulled him into the water, took a rag from a drawer, then started to scrub him down.

"Hey!" He protested. "I can clean myself!"

"Not enough to pass for a high caste, you can't." She replied. "Trust me. I know how to do this. And I know what the cops look for."

Knockout frowned, but didn't protest, focusing instead on the steady stream of solvent as it poured across his plates. It was fresh, it was clean, and it was _warm._ Pleasantly so. Not like the cold, gritty water that came from his "personal" washracks. He barely even noticed when Moonracer's slim fingers slipped under his plating to get at the grit beneath, he was so relaxed. He allowed himself to close his optics once again.

This was so... _nice..._

"When was the last time you had your oil changed?"

Knockout was caught off-guard by the question. "Almost two years..."

"Primus, that's a while. We'll have to do that, too."

* * *

By the time Moonracer was done, she had quite literally scrubbed _off_ his paint. He was as silver as the day he was protoformed, and Knockout suddenly felt self-conscious.

Not that Moonracer cared. She was quickly drying him off with a towel. "So, now that I've got a blank slate to work with, we can go down to the garage. Get you prettied up nicely, and get you a better vehicle mode."

Knockout's optics went wide. "A _what?!"_ He exclaimed. "You...you can't be serious! Changing my alternate mode?! Do you _know_ what the authorities will do to me?! I'll be thrown in prison! I'll be a permanent monoformer!"

 _"If_ you're caught." Moonracer said, optics glinting mischievously. "Keyword 'if'." She patted his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Knockout. I got you covered."

"How?! It's one thing to take me to your home on the highroad, it's another to change my function unprecedented! I-"

"Shhh." She silenced him, pressing a finger to his lip plates. "Just trust ol' Moony. She's still got plenty of tricks up her armor plating." Without waiting for another rebuttal, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the washracks, down the stairs, and out to the four-car garage.

The walls were less impressive than the house, being standard steel, and the floors were cement, but the garage was still a cause of awe in Knockout. Not only did Moonracer have premium detailing supplies _and_ a buffer of her own, but she also had tools and rims and hubcaps and all sorts of modifying parts to upgrade alt modes. He briefly wondered what sort of person Moonracer might be before deciding that it didn't matter. For now, all these supplies were for _him._

"Let's start you off with a basic paintjob and window polish." Moonracer said, jerking him from his thoughts once more. "You're a scarlet red. So let's get you prettied up." She grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to the center of the room, then forced his arms upright into a T shape.

"Are you sure I should keep my original coloring?" Knockout asked. "If the authorities get suspicious..."

"If the authorities get suspicious- _if-_ they'll be _expecting_ you to think that." Moonracer replied. "They'll be on the lookout for any color _but_ red." She grabbed a can of paint labeled SCARL, then walked over to him. "Close your optics, stay still." She said.

Knockout did as instructed, and heard the _hssss_ of an aerosol can as she painted him expertly.

When she was done, she poked him, right in between his optics. "Hey. Tall, speckled, and handsome. You can open your optics now."

He opened his optics to glare at her. "Kindly refrain from talking about my...pigmentation, if you please." He said bitterly. It was one thing to have people look at the spots of darker silver on his face- it was another to point them out.

She looked at him curiously. "Don't like them?"

"Not in the slightest." He replied.

"Well then, I can fix that." She picked up another can of paint, this one labeled WHITE, and shock it. "Optics closed."

Knockout barely had an astrosecond to do so before he felt the coolness of fresh paint against his faceplates, then again at his audio receptors.

"Now open."

He opened his optics, and Moonracer held up a mirror. A very _nice_ looking mirror, nothing like the shard he kept as his personal treasure. But his reflection drew his attention away.

His once silver faceplates were now a smooth white, with no sign of the dark speckles. As different as it was to see, the white against the red looked...surprisingly flattering.

"You like?" Moonracer asked, eagerly awaiting his answer.

Knockout slowly nodded. "I do. It looks..."

"Flattering? Thought so. Red and white go well together. Now!" She clapped her hands once. "Your alt mode. And after that, we can get some more exciting paintwork done."

He jolted, looking at her in shock yet again. "How in the name of Primus am I supposed to get a different vehicle mode without being caught? Do tell, because I'd _love_ to know!" Even though she'd just painted him up, he couldn't help the rise of sarcasm. He blamed his time with his mentor.

"Simple." Moonracer said. "We get you someone to scan that has a racing mode. Such as myself." She smirked proudly, then transformed. "Go on!"

Knockout's cyan optics widened. "You?!" He managed to say after a long moment. "But- but you're high caste, a-and offering yourself for scan means you'd get pulled into legal trouble as well!"

"I can deal with that. You want in on this race, right? Well, you're not gonna get in there with that alt mode." She revved her engines. "Hurry up, I want to get to detailing!"

Knockout hesitated, looking at her for a long moment. He was already starting to picture the four-wheeler in his colors.

His optics brightened, and he scanned her.

* * *

Two nearly identical cars lined up at the starting line of the Benefit 500. Both of them were expensive racer-class four-wheelers, with sleek form and aerodynamic builds. One of them, a mint green, looked simple enough, but further inspection proved otherwise. Her glass was reinforced, and her tires, supported by platinum hubcaps, were whitewall.

The second was sporting a fresh coat of paint, wax, and just about every detailing procedure that could be named. His chassis was smooth and shiny, scarlet red with touches of yellow, and a white stripe that dissolved into intricate purple designs as it spread across his doors. His headlights were almost glaringly bright, and his tires, though a standard black, were fitted around golden wheels. He was _stunning._

"Nervous?" Moonracer asked, nudging his tire.

Knockout hesitated. "Yes, a little..."

"Don't be. You've got nothing to worry about. We practiced for hours."

"And they practiced for years...! Vorns, even!"

"It'll be fine. You're the best. And they're going to find it out the _hard_ way."

The other racers, a well-known speedster named Blurr and a speed-engine racer named Sunset, drove up beside them. "Hey, Moony. Haven't seen you on the track in awhile." Blurr said. "Who's your friend?"

"Who, this?" Moonracer giggled. "Dunno, but he sure is a _knockout,_ huh?"

 **"RACERS, START YOUR ENGINES!"**

The voice of the announcer cut off any conversation that may have been sparking between Blurr and Moonracer. All four of the racecars revved their engines.

Knockout took a deep breath, focusing. There was nobody else around. Just him and this track. It would be easy.

 **"GO!"**

Knockout didn't waste any time, taking off as fast as he could and forcing his engine into overdrive. He was neck and neck with the other three, but one of them, Sunset, was already starting to speed ahead.

She was fast. _Too_ fast, for someone of her build. Either she'd had her engine souped up, which was illegal, or-

-or her spark was an erratic one.

Knockout had seen it before, in the mines. Occasionally, there would be a miner who was more than competent, picking up over 200% of the usual workload. But he would burn out fast, and by the end of the day, he was sluggish and slow.

He wouldn't have to worry about her, then. By the time he'd passed his newfound friend and the reigning champion, she would be too tired to continue at the speed she was going.

Blurr was a perfect racer. Flawless as he glided down the flat track, steadily gaining speed. For now, he was the main one to get out of the race. Knockout would have to analyze him for any key mistakes that could gain him an advantage.

But as the race continued, Knockout could find nothing. Nothing at all. No bursts of speed, no slowing down when tailgated, nothing. Even his turns were perfect, executed to the finest degree. Knockout was at a loss.

"Think, Knockout, think!" He muttered to himself. "What's a characteristic of faster workers?!"

Then it hit him. When you had someone that fast, they used a lot of energon to keep that speed up. And higher-quality energon often burned faster than the lower quality. So, all Knockout had to do was to wear Blurr out.

He could do that.

He pushed himself harder, trying to outpace Blurr, only for the blue speedster to cut him off. He smirked inwardly. This was perfect. He quickly maneuvered for another attempt, only to be cut off again.

This went on, back and forth, for several laps. Knockout noticed his adversary starting to slow. "Now's my chance...!" He said to himself. At the next turn, he acted as if he were speeding again, prompting Blurr to cut him off, before quickly going to the other side and outpacing him. As he did so, he noticed that Sunset had fallen far behind during his little power stunt.

Now with Blurr successfully left in the dust, Knockout had one adversary left.

Moonracer.

He didn't have time to wear down her energon reserves as they entered the final lap. And she was already a distance ahead of him. So, with her, he couldn't rely on medical ingenuity.

Now he had to rely on his skills in racing.

He gunned his engines, trying his best to catch up to her. He may not have worn her down, but she likely still took premium energon. Which meant she _couldn't_ be at the top of her game.

He never thought he'd actually be _glad_ for the nasty, low-quality energon supplied at the mines.

As he caught up, he noticed her rearview mirrors swiveling to look at him. "Nice racing, Jofy!" She called.

Knockout was puzzled. "Jofy? What?"

"That's what I'm calling you!"

"Why?"

She giggled. "Because you're here in a _jiffy,_ but you got _off_ to a flying start! _And_ you're ' **J** ust **o** ur **f** avorite, **y** 'know?'" She laughed again as she finished explaining.

Knockout drove up beside her, neck and neck. "You...have got to be the oddest femme I've ever met."

"Thank you!" She nudged his tire. "I take pride in that!"

That nudge, however, was a mistake. The small movement allowed Knockout to gain the tiniest of leads, barely even his headlights ahead of her. "You know what I take pride in?" He asked. "Being right up to par with the rest of the Cybertronians, no matter what caste." And with that, he crossed the finish line, winning the Benefit 500.

* * *

Knockout walked with Moonracer, side by side, back down towards the mining camp.

"So...500,000 Shanix." Moonracer prompted. "What are you going to do with all that money?"

Knockout frowned contemplatively. "Get a better medbay, of course, and a properly stocked one...hopefully then we won't have as many casualties."

"Are casualties common in mining camps?"

"Unfortunately. We lose so many so often, either in mining accidents or on the operating table..." He swallowed, attempting to ignore the sick feeling that threatened to rise in his tanks once again. He'd successfully avoided that nausea all day, and he didn't want it to return now by thinking about the mechs he'd had to offline.

Mercy. That's what it was. They wouldn't survive, and it was better to kill them like that instead of let them slowly die an agonizing death.

And that's how he managed to still recharge at night.

"I'm sorry..." Moonracer said, more somber than he'd seen her since he'd met her. "That must be rough..."

"I manage." He grunted, unwilling to show weakness, then sighed. "But I don't know what I'm going to do. All of these new upgrades...I'll stick out like a sore cyber-carpel, and be carted off to the nearest law facility."

Moonracer smirked. "Not if I have anything to say about it." She walked up to the mining camp entrance, to the guard.

"Name?" The guard asked, evidently bored out of his processor.

"Moonracer." Knockout's companion replied. "Escorting medic Knockout back to his post."

 _This_ got the guard's attention. His violet optics widened as he looked Knockout over. "Knockout?!" He asked in disbelief. "But-but...what?!"

Knockout shrugged, attempting to play it off casually, even though his spark was pounding hard enough to burst from his spark chamber. "Got a few upgrades, a few detailing procedures, not a big deal."

"Not a big- _you have a new alt mode?!"_ He screeched. "I-I've gotta report this! Unauthorized mode switching a-and upgrades are-"

"Authorized."

Knockout's blue optics widened in surprise as Moonracer showed the guard a datapad. The guard looked at it, and gaped, before slowly nodding. "R-Right...alright...no problem here, ma'am..." He opened the gate immediately.

Knockout looked at Moonracer incredulously. "What did you just do...?"

"Pulled rank." Moonracer said, smirking slyly. "Go on, you have a medbay to get to."

"Aren't you coming?"

She shook her helm. "I've got no place there. The miners would probably get violent fast if I was around. Just like you did." She handed him the datapad. "Here. You're probably going to need this...I'll see you next week. Same time, same place?"

Knockout nodded slowly. "Uh-huh...Sure..."

She smiled. "Well then, see you later, Jofy." And with that, she transformed and drove off.

"Jofy...?" The guard asked.

Knockout frowned. "Don't ask." Curious, he looked at the contents of the datapad that had made the guard cow so easily.

To his shock, the datapad displayed fully filled out forms for an alt mode change and authorization to roam the high roads. But what drew his attention more was the signature at the end.

 _Authorized by Moonracer of Kalis, 892nd cycle, 424, Council-enlisted enforcer and Chief of Kalisian Security._

Knockout gaped. "I just- She- what?!" he sputtered in shock.

Well...that certainly explained the lack of regard for consequences.


End file.
